


Time Till 0:00

by JadeDraggy2017



Series: Timers [1]
Category: Persona 5
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst, Based On A Writing Prompt, Freeform, Hurt No Comfort, M/M, Soul Mate AU, but I did this shit, the writting prompt ended in puppies, why did I do this to my son
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-14
Updated: 2018-04-14
Packaged: 2019-04-22 05:17:31
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,385
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14301603
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/JadeDraggy2017/pseuds/JadeDraggy2017
Summary: There's a clock on his wrist counting down until the day he'll meet the one person that wants him...





	Time Till 0:00

**Author's Note:**

> PRETEND 6/9 didn't happen okay? Ren was in the bathroom, Ryuji, Ann, and Morgana are standing around arguing about pancakes. It's an AU. Don't come at me with semantics. My Beta already does this...
> 
> Follow me for insanity [here](https://adraggynamedjade.tumblr.com/)

 

 

When he wakes up the time is 06:21:34 and counting.  
  
And there’s an event at the television station today. But Akechi doesn't care.  
  
It’s 06:19:17.  
  
The clock on wrist formed when his mother died. They form when you reach ‘maturity’. When your brain understands what you need. What you crave. What you will love.  
  
Just a little over six hours. He’ll meet them at the TV station.  
  
It’s 04:32:55.  
  
He had to take a peek at it, under his gloves, in the safety of a bathroom stall. He had to check it. Akechi would be lying to say his heart wasn’t racing. But he had to keep calm. He had an interview to do, and there were a host of school students arriving at the station. Maybe they were among them?  
  
He’s tempted to go out and mingle, to try and speed things along. But that was useless. How many fans had he met that tried desperately to cling to him as their clocks counted down, or that tried to time their meeting, that tried and tried and failed?  
  
He’d have to wait.  
  
It’s 03:01:11.  
  
He’s still looking at it under his gloves in his dressing room. He’d been told before he’d know even without looking at it, that it has an ‘alarm,’ a feeling like your arm goes numb. Which is good, because he wants to be looking into their face.  
  
It’s 2:45:05.  
  
All his life no one had wanted him. At one point, he wondered how could he have a clock with a life like his. Lying awake, balled up in covers on the floor, watching the timer. The time that seemed so far away. Someone will want him. Someone will. Someone has to. He’s what someone needs. He’s what someone craves. Their light, their hope, their salvation.  
  
It’s mind numbing. Exhilarating. Are they perfect? They’ll think he is. He’s groomed himself to be perfect. Not for his fans, not for his father, not for his mother.  
  
But for them.  
  
It’s 01:11:10.  
  
Hiding his anxious and nervous laughter during the interview is agonizing. There’s an audience full of students from Shujin. Some of them are wearing ‘A’ pins. There’s a bunch of girls ogling at him. He has to keep smiling, and keeping his appearance up.  
  
It’s 15:43.  
  
And now they’re taking questions. Every girl raises her hand, of course. He wonders what their clocks say. If they know the time is ticking down. Will they jump up to reveal themselves?  
  
It’s 10:13.  
  
Will they scream and run to the front of the stage?  
  
It’s 4:26.  
  
Will they faint and he be the first thing they see when they open their eyes.  
  
It’s 1:33.  
  
There’s not much time left for this question and answer session.  
  
It’s 0:15  
  
The host hands the mic down to a boy and his arm goes numb.  
  
“They do more than the cops.”  
  
The first sound out of his mouth is laughter. Its nervous, and anxious and amused and amazed. His whole arm feels like its fallen off, but he raises it and brushes the sides of his hair to hide the change.  
  
“That’s a very interesting view,” he responds with a smile. Akechi couldn’t give a damn about what his actual answer was. He kept his eyes on the boy that answered. He didn’t seem to be reacting to his clock either. Was he like him? Keeping himself composed. Did he want this discussion to be private? He couldn’t blame him, how awkward it must have been for the poor boy, to realize in that exact moment that his soul mate was _him._  
  
A celebrity, perfectly composed, and well groomed and glowing under the spotlight, while he sat slouched in his chair, startled into paying attention, with his disheveled hair, and glasses awkwardly sliding down his nose.  
  
Oh he was a sight! But of _course_ this was the person that needed him. It made sense. Akechi was perfect and this boy was not. The excellent compliment to his order was chaos. Chaos that he could help, and groom, and show the way. Someone to admire how easily he fixed any situation, how popular he was, how smart he was, how far he’d climbed. Someone who not only wanted him, but realized how much worth he held.  
  
Once the show was over and the students were released from seats, he seeks him out. Of course he’d figured the boy would also be seeking him, but no, instead he was standing off to the side alone.  
  
Still slightly slouched over, glancing around. He was all alone, perhaps waiting for him? A smart decision, to stand out from the crowd and make their conversation more private.

  
Akechi approaches him smiling, still a perfect image. Mashing down all the butterflies, and knots and questions clawing their way up the back of his throat. He wouldn’t be anything less than at the peak of his performance for this moment.  
  
“I’m glad I finally found you,” he standing in front of him, he’s able to size the teenager up. He had grey eyes hidden behind those glasses and his fluffy black bangs. He might actually be taller than him if he would stand up straight. Akechi could fix that. He could fix his soulmate to hide his flaws and appear as perfect as he did.

 

He started to open his mouth again, when the boy raised his hand to touch his hair. And all that anxiety, and build up and hope that had been fluttering around in him since he woke up died.  
  
It turns and and howls and twist in on itself. Until it pulls into a little ball and devoured its own light. It holds pitiful black puss that oozes out from the core and settles in his stomach, daring him to vomit it out.  
  
The boy’s wrist reads 05:11::12:53:41.  
  
Months. Days. Hours. Minutes. Seconds. Still ticking down. It’s still ticking down.  
  
What did he say next? Did it even matter? He couldn’t remember. He turns and walks away, past students and fans. Past staff and faces. Past blurs and turning walls, and falling ceilings, and collapsing floors, until he found a door he could shut between him and the world.  
  
He pulls off his left glove and tosses it to the floor.  
  
The time is 0:00.  
  
They didn’t match.  
  
He didn’t want him.  
  
He wasn’t his soul mate.  
  
What was his name?  
  
Ren Amamiya? He wasn’t his soul mate. He was waiting for someone else. Akechi stares at the clock, his right hand squeezing his arm, cutting off the flow of blood; the flow of time. His smile fades, his face twitches. The facade cracks. Alone against the door, his expression falters, his teeth grinding together as the sludge inside him starts bubbling.  
  
Even this, even fate was so unkind as to remind him that no one wanted him. He was alone.  
  
Just him and his anger.  
  
Ren Amamiya had a soul mate? Why wasn’t it him? Why did he need Ren but not the other way around?  
  
Why? Why!  
  
It’s 0:00.  
  
Perfection demands that Akechi keep his anger to himself. Keep his insults for the world’s rejection under his tongue. Even if Ren didn’t want him, he still had to be perfect. For his fans, for the spotlight, for his father.  
  
The perfect student. The perfect detective. The perfect killer.  
  
But perfection is nothing without acknowledgement. It’s a fool’s errand to seek it out, to seek him out.  
  
It was just supposed to be once. He spots Ren approaching as he’s looking over the bread at the bakery. He should leave, run, but he stays. Just to look at him. Just to look at his clock.  
  
It’s 05:01::5:33:12. Still so much time.  
  
He can’t bear it. Akechi has to excuse himself and run away. At least there’s work to distract him. The mental shutdowns, the rampages, the Phantom Thieves.  
  
But Ren admires the thieves. Maybe he wants a vigilante. A detective is the opposite of what he craves. What made his clock form, Akechi wonders. For him, it was his mother’s death.  
  
He needed a home. He needed stability. He needed comfort.  
  
He finds all that in Ren’s eyes as he approaches him on the platform.  
  
It’s 04:13::4:19:31. So long from now.  
  
And Ren still praises the thieves. Or did he say he didn’t care? Akechi wasn’t really listening. He was choking down the groaning acid eating away at his body. He only found peace when he was in the Metaverse, when he could drop the mask and let the acid run loose through the cognitive tunnels.  
  
Shadows would pay for fate’s cruelty.  
  
Society would pay for life’s injustice.  
  
He’ll break from God’s neglect.  
  
And his stupid father was pushing more and more for the capture of the thieves. Building them up to save all of Japan from a group of hackers. He couldn’t help but wonder what Ren thought.  
  
Every time he sees him he walks up to him, his feet carrying him before he could process why he shouldn’t. He means nothing to him. But the boy means everything to him.  
  
It’s 04:05::23:34:09.  
  
Ren’s indifference is giving way to something. Is it indifference towards him or the situation? He doesn’t seem worried, either way. And he’s always surrounded by his friends. His friends… Will one of these riff raff that joins his crew be the one?  
  
Why isn’t he the one? Is it because he’s a detective and Ren’s a vigilante?  
  
A phantom thief of hearts? Living his life in direct opposition to him. Obtaining perfection by running wild and rampant in the face of the law.  
  
He still has to be perfect as the world turns on him. Less fans clamour up to him trying to see if their clock will run down while they are talking. Less shows want to interview him, knowing his views are toxic towards the thieves and hurt their views. But he’s still the perfect killer.  
  
Under the smile, the pristine well groomed appearance, he’s still perfectly covered from head to toe in blood and black and hatred.  
  
It’s 03:11::05:41:16.  
  
Ren’s coffee is like home. Leblanc itself is cozy, and quiet. But Ren’s coffee is warm and comforting. Every drop creates a heat that permeates through him, that calms the bile and the toxins, and makes the butterflies un-cocoon themselves and live again. The nervous anxiety, the uncertain laughter. It manifest itself in the form of the truth spilling from his lips.  
  
No one wants him.  
  
His mother is gone.  
  
His father is scum.  
  
He’s all alone.  
  
But this coffee is like home.  
  
It’s 02:29::11:47:11.  
  
It doesn’t feel like home when he’s taking a life. He feels a different kind of calm. He can let his real smile show. The acid within him oozes out from between his teeth. Hatred reflected in his eyes, in his persona, as the black puss of a shadow’s insides splashes back against his gun. Point blank shots cover him in cognitive blood. The butterflies are sleeping. The anxiety is at rest.

His laughter is only sinister.  
  
He wonders if he’ll get the chance to shoot Ren’s soul mate like this? If he has to be alone, so should the other boy.  
  
Will he make him watch?  
  
It’s 02:01::01:23:45.  
  
He’s back to being a hero again. But it’s nothing. It’s all nothing. The plastic smile feels worn this time. The fans clattering for him seem even more distant. It’s nothing, they’re all nothing. The only thing that makes him feel whole is sitting on a barstool, watching the barista that’s not meant for him. Watching as Ren brews him a cup and passes it to him, inviting him to stay a bit longer.  
  
He’s so friendly, despite his indifference. He’s kind and caring. No wonder they all flock to him.  
  
How gentle he was going to be to his future lover. Listening to their needs, wanting to help them, wanting to save them.  
  
But he didn’t want to save _him_ .  
  
He was broken. And lost. And bloody. And hateful. But he was perfect. Too perfect in his taint to be saved.  
  
He can’t stay. He has to go. Despite how warm the coffee makes him. How much he wishes this was his home.  
  
It’s 01:18::19:55:34.  
  
Akechi is still all plastic smiles as the thieves falter before him. But not Ren. Makoto loses her composure for a second, but Ren hardly seems surprised. Maybe it’s just a mask. His ability to seem so indifferent. Even in the face of being confronted. Even with the knowledge of being exposed.  
  
He wonders if he’ll have that same blank look when he meets his lover.  
  
Will he wear it when Akechi kills them?  
  
He’ll give him time. All the time he needs. Until the clock runs out.  
  
It’s 1:09::13:13:33.  
  
‘Crow’ fits his real Metaverse self so much better, but he can’t help but love hearing Joker call his name in battle. Their gun shots back to back, jumping in to finish off a group of fallen shadows, the self satisfied congratulations shared for every chest opened.  
  
The team is resentful, but Joker is grateful.  
  
Joker wants Crow around. Joker wants Crow to be part of the main team at every visit to the casino. Joker is, of course, the only one that matters.  
  
But Ren’s clock is still ticking.  
  
It’s 19::00:06:51.  
  
Killing has always been easy. Perhaps easier than pretending to be perfect, than holding up a halo with crooked horns and bathing himself in a false light he dared to call truth.  
  
Justice is not kind or swift. It’s cruel in its intentions and steady in its lesson.  
  
There’s still time on the clock, but it stops dead when Ren’s life ends.  
  
Akechi wishes he could have only killed his lover first. He wonders what happens to the clock of your soulmate when you die before you meet? Does their clock fade? Does the countdown continue and you are left disappointed as he was?  
  
Somewhere out there, someone else would go forever unwanted.  
  
And it was satisfying to know that justice had been served.  
  
He paraded himself around, ever the dauntless hero. He’d still get the other thieves, in time. Right now it didn’t matter, but he put on a good show for the audience. For his fans. For his father.  
  
Subconsciously he counted the days. When he was alone; when he wasn’t crawling through the Metaverse to ease his sickness, when he was craving coffee and curry and grey eyes and a quiet home, he counted the days.  
  
It should be 10 now.  
  
Sometimes he thinks he spies a ghost on the platforms. But his feet don’t carry him to the figure. The time has since moved on for that. A new countdown should be his focus. No one may want him, but soon he’d make everyone acknowledge him.  
  
Soon it would be 6. He wonders what they would have been like, the lover Ren never got to save. Was it a girl or a boy? Were they perfect or a mess? Were they someone he would ever meet and did it even matter?  
  
When he marks off the third day on his calendar, Akechi finds the bile has eaten all the butterflies, but their corpses still rot away in his body. They make a stench that makes his mind spins. He’s unable to focus, he’s barely able to smile.  
  
All he thinks about is how alone he is. And how instant coffee taste like shit.  
  
Even the promise that soon his father would suffer for starting the chain of events that lead to him being discarded brought him no peace.  
  
Somewhere his mother’s body rotted in a pauper’s grave.

 

And Ren’s body sat in a cold morgue.

 

His body shambled through the bustling train station.  
  
He craved a home that wasn’t ever meant for him.  
  
It’s 06:21:34.  
  
His father has grown restless and wants to change his plans. It’s a stupidly odd move. Akechi wonders if he’s onto him? Or perhaps it is that someone else is.  
  
It’s 06:19:17.  
  
By the time Akechi arrives at the boat things have gone terribly wrong. He’d glanced into the Ark once, just to get a feel for Shido’s ego. But the guests were all acting different. Key figures were missing. Conversations had changed. He started searching the floors, questioning shadows.  
  
Every step he takes, he feels the anxiety clawing up from its grave in the sludge that had taken over his heart.  
  
It’s 04:32:55.  
  
The pool deck is a mess. Guests talking about the rude children that had slain a guest and the news revives the butterflies. Like the rabid zombie insects that they are, they chew at every part of his body.  
  
A group of kids. A group of teenagers. The Phantom Thieves.  
  
Because he really can’t have anything, can he?  
  
It’s 03:01:11.  
  
If only Shido could come into his own palace and be a vermin like he imagined everyone else. Climbing through air ducts, and hiding under tables, scurrying from Shadows. He had to find them. They were somewhere in this mess of a ship. And what’s worse was that every cognitive person he spoke to said there were eight of them.  
  
Eight!  
  
Was it someone new? Was it Ren’s ill fated lover?  
  
He’d kill them too.

  
If it wasn’t Ren himself.  
  
It’s 0:2:45:05.  
  
He’s finally found a fresh trail, they’re going to the engine room. They’re hoping to collect these stupid letters to get to Shido’s shadow and there’s only one left.  
  
It’s 01:11:10.  
  
By the time Akechi makes his way to the bowels of the ship the fight was already underway. The cognitive version of the Cleaner was losing this battle. But of course he was. He was not match for Joker.  
  
Alive and well and as fierce as ever.  
  
The Shadow falls and the thieves win. But he can’t let them leave. He can’t let Joker leave.  
  
He’s worked too hard his entire life to be denied everything.  
  
Denied a mother. Denied a home. Denied friends. Denied a lover.  
  
The fight that follows is nothing short of mayhem. They’re giving it everything they’ve got, but he knows he’s holding back. He figured he could best them with just this facade. His plastic mask has always been enough. Perfection has always been enough for every other challenge.  
  
But perfection was never enough for Joker.  
  
It’s 15:43.  
  
He’s lost the first round. They were too good. Joker was too good. This was pathetic. The bile was bubbling within him.  
  
It’s 10:13.  
  
What had gone so horribly wrong with his life? The butterflies were back, menacing him, devouring his reason. He could only laugh: anxiously, nervously, as he pushes himself to stand again.  
  
This time they weren’t alone. Joker was surrounded by his team and he was surrounded by no one.  
  
It’s 4:26.  
  
Akechi’s perfect mask is breaking. His smile oozes hatred, his eyes burn with a light not meant for humans. He knows now at least he’ll get to kill Joker before he can escape the boat and meet his precious lover. Maybe he’ll drag them here to meet his corpse and then lay them down together.  
  
It’s 1:33.  
  
The mask is coming off, and he can hear the thieves gasping. He’s transformed into a monster so many times it’s comforting. Not like coffee or home or his mother or Ren, but it releases the anxiety and turns the butterflies from gnawing at him to snarling at the world.  
  
It’s 0:15.  
  
All the bile, and hatred, and blood coats him black. And his black mask covers over his eyes.  
  
This is who Akechi is. Not a prince, nor a perfect person, nor a detective. He is a horrible mess of a broken child. Hellbent on murder. Unsavable. Unreachable.  
  
It’s Ren’s first time meeting the real Akechi Goro.  
  
The time is 0:00.


End file.
